Ah, yes… after one weekend partying in Sydney for Mardi Gras, Clubber’s Guide only has one simple question: just how many super gays can you fit into the city at the same time?

A lot, apparently. It seemed you couldn’t turn a corner without seeing a gay couple holding hands, walking with their arms linked or choosing fruit and vegetables… and brazenly in broad daylight. The absolute audacity of it all! (When did that get legalised?)

Maybe that’s just the effect caused by the winding, circling streets of the city, which makes the uneducated travel in circles so people pass in repetitive fashion that would make even Hanna Barbera blush. I suppose that’s what happens when you build your city around a big-ass body of water. Originally I thought it was just me and my paranoia of leaving the grid formation of Melbourne town, but I quick to learn that while many people think the parade is some form of celebration of equality, they’re actually just doing it to lead you to the party. Otherwise you could end up in some dodgy, ass-end of the universe suburb like Ultimo, or Surry Hills. Or worse yet, Prahran.